


We could be royals (I'd rather not)

by cumbercookiebatchs



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Don't worry he's working on it, Enjolras hates monarchy, Enjolras is a prince and his father is an ass, Grantaire is sort of his personal guard, M/M, enjolras is not amused, grantaire isn't either
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumbercookiebatchs/pseuds/cumbercookiebatchs
Summary: You’ll have to protect the prince, they said.That’ll be your only job, they said.Well, they’d forgot to mention how much of an ass the prince was.Oran ongoing royal au.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. 1.1

_You’ll have to protect the prince_ , they said.

 _That’ll be your only job_ , they said.

Well - Grantaire mused as he stumbled between the low bushes covering the forest floor- they’d forgot to mention how much of an ass the prince was.

His green cloak was an ass thing, too, and it kept making him trip, almost choking him a few times as well and Grantaire was growing to hate it with a passion, seconds away to throw it off and to hell with the royal guard uniform and all that.

As taken as he was with his swearing, he almost missed the lean figure of the ass- _the prince,_ sat on a low branch not too far away from him.

Grantaire had to admit, as much as he was a pain in his ass, Enjolras was endlessly Charming. And he was in that moment as well, with the light falling just right around him, blond curls glowing golden around his smirking face.

Grantaire frowned at him, watched as those dainty hands brought an apple to Enjolras’s mouth, lips as red as the fruit itself. Enjolras smirked around his mouthful and bent down, resting his arms on his knees. Grantaire felt his eyebrow arch up on his own volition, and he grunted in the back of his throat.

Was there something worse, on the great green earth, than an anarchist prince?

Yeah.

Actually, there was.

His personal guard catching feelings for said prince. That’s what was worse.

Grantaire couldn’t even put up with himself anymore, only huffed when Enjolras picked another apple from the branch behind him, throwing it in a perfect arch that made it land right between his hands.

A light breeze picked up and Enjolras jumped down, the soft moss beneath his feet making his steps silent. Grantaire crossed his arms on his chest, internally flinching at how much the act reminded him of his father.

“So?”, he asked.

Enjolras shrugged, smiling slightly. “You’re getting better at finding me. It took you a lot less than last time”.

Grantaire rolled his eyes and bit on his apple, “That’s not my work, you ass”, he protested, and Enjolras snorted, and, really, how the hell could he manage to still be attractive while doing that?!

“That’s not the way to talk to your prince” he said, linking their arms together right after.

Grantaire blinked.

Then blinked again.

And then blinked some more, looking down at their joined arms. “Wha-?”

Enjolras chuckled, “C'mon, I’ll let you escort me back to the palace, so that you won’t lose your job. It wouldn’t do for me to lose your sharp mouth after all, I quite enjoy our debates, you know?”

And, okay- _what?_

Say what you might, but Grantaire was no fool.

Well, most of the time, anyway.

And while he was mostly sure Enjolras had spoken the truth, he really could not bring himself to believe in the mellow facade the blond had put on. So, he eyed him sideways and slowed their pace. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

Enjolras grinned wickedly, “when am I not?”


	2. 1.2

Enjolras’s planning, as it turned out, wasn’t as dangerous as it usually was.  
  
Beltane was approaching fast, and Enjolras had expressed his will to partake in celebration with his people, away from the castle and its sturdy walls – and, most importantly, away from his father’s eyes.  
  
Grantaire, of course, could do naught but to indulge him, not even complaining much about the early hour and the coldness of the morning.  
  
Something wasn’t right with Enjolras these days, and Grantaire felt for him. He really did. For that boy not much younger than him but with such weight on his shoulders already.  
  
For as much as he complained, Enjolras was maybe the best thing that had happened to Grantaire’s life, and if a day away was all Grantaire could do for him, well then Grantaire would make sure for it to be as perfect as possible.  
  
They’d forgo the royal attires to best blend in, and while for Grantaire that simply meant to leave his cloak behind, Enjolras had had to wear Grantaire’s clothes instead.  
  
They were too big on him, Grantaire noticed, as the blond walked a few steps ahead from him. Enjolras fit so well within nature, lean figure tinted pink and blue by the early morning sky, palm open to brush through the ears of wheat all around him. As if he was born to run through the woods and fill the earth with his love.  
  
Grantaire couldn’t understand, how such a bright soul still managed to live between the castle’s walls, with no love nor warmth. But Enjolras held such care in his heart, such fairness and fierceness. He burned with a fire that was his own furnace, enough to melt Grantaire’s bitterness away-  
  
Well, part of it, at least.  
  
The wheat field was incredibly large around them, and only let off at the very edge of the forest, where golden ears leaned up to brush against the green leaves of the trees, still miles away from them. Grantaire palmed the heel of his sword, thinking about what route would be best while on their way back.  
  
Maybe, he mused, it was possible to convince Enjolras to head back to the castle before the night fell.  
  
Unlikely, but it was still worth a try.  
  
Riding on horseback would’ve been better, but Enjolras wished to walk, or so he’d said. Grantaire guessed it was to mislead his father, to make him believe they wouldn’t wander much.  
  
Enjolras turned around to look at him, curls tangled in the breeze. He frowned at him.  
  
Grantaire’s heart sped up in his chest.  
  
“May you walk faster, Grantaire?”  
  
Grantaire picked up his peace, fell into step beside him.  
  
Enjolras linked their arms together, lead him away from the wheat and well into the forest.  
  
They reached the village close to mid-morning, Grantaire’s feet hurt and he was hungry already, but Enjolras’s quiet smile was worth it, and he watched with a smile of his own as the blond walked away to talk with his people, sure that no one would’ve been able to tell who he was, as away from the citadel as they were.  
  
He sat under the shadow of a tree, eyes alert and careful as he watched over Enjolras from afar.  
  
He shined even more, between the people he loved.  
  
Grantaire sighed, rolling his eyes at his own mind.  
  
He knew he’d always had a taste for trouble, but he figured that Enjolras, and the feelings he had for him, were prone to lead him somewhere else entirely.  
  
Oh, well.  
  
He fished in his pouch, fiddled with the coins there and the tempting thought for some ale, then decided against it and closed his eyes.  
  
It took a while for Enjolras to join him, hands filled with bread and cheese and a bit of dried meat. He grinned at the way Grantaire perked up, sitting up straight against the trunk behind him, and handed him a chunk of bread.  
  
“I thought your job was to look after me, not to doze off in wait of your lunch”.  
  
Grantaire grinned at him, licking the crumbs away from his finger, “Look at you, not trying to run away from me for once. How come? You’re starting to enjoy my company at last?”  
  
Enjolras huffed at him, “You know I like your company”.  
  
Grantaire smirked, stole more bread and some dried meat, and gave off his coins to buy dry sweets. He handed them all to Enjolras, relishing in the smile he received,  
  
“don’t you want to share them with me?”  
  
“I bought them for you”  
  
“so?”  
  
Grantaire conceded, stole a single cookie, and laid down on the grass.  
  
He must’ve dozed off, because when his eyes opened again the dances had already started.  
  
He thought he’d found Enjolras among the villagers, but he still sat beside him instead.  
  
Grantaire figured he could be glad for that, at least. He didn’t know if his heart would’ve been able to stand such a sight, but Enjolras looked sad, with his knees held tight against his chest, well lost in his own thoughts.  
  
Grantaire hated it very much, when he got like that.

As if the whole of his life turned against him with the sole purpose to try and crush him down. Enjolras wasn’t one to let up easily, that much Grantaire was sure of.

Still, he despised everything that had Enjolras look that way. Sitting up, he nudged Enjolras’s feet with his own.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, playing with a few strands of grass, “I thought you’d be happy, being away for a while, and all that”.  
  
Enjolras shrugged, “I was. I am.”  
  
“But?”  
  
Enjolras shrugged again, fiddled with his hair when Grantaire touched his wrist. “Enjolras, talk to me. Please. I’m here to help you”.  
  
The wind brushed lightly among the grass and the leaves, it tangled gently between Enjolras’s curls, hiding his sigh away.  
  
“I’m afraid you’ll have to keep faith to your duty, Grantaire, and assure I won’t be killed”.  
  
Grantaire frowned, slid closer to him, took his hand away. “What do you mean?”  
  
Enjolras leaned back on his hands, eyes lost to the sky and the clouds sliding by, and his voice was a mere whisper, almost lost in the chatter of the passerby. “I fear my father will have me killed, once I’ll come of age.”  
  
Grantaire’s whole self stilled. Enjolras’s father- he wasn’t a good king. He wasn’t a good man.  
  
Enjolras, Grantaire knew, wasn’t a legitimate heir. Born from a maid, left with his mother until the queen died, leaving the king with no lineage but that bastard son. Though he’d tried, the king hadn’t been able to turn Enjolras into the pawn he wished him to be.  
  
Enjolras was a nuisance, and about to become a more dangerous one.  
  
Grantaire held his hands together tight, “we could run”.  
  
Enjolras’s features hardened, “You very well know I can’t. Grantaire, I need to change this world.

"I have the power to do it. I just have to hold on a bit more, until we’re ready. Then, we’ll send my father away, and we’ll share power with our people”.

He looked at Grantaire, “I can’t bear to see them starve to death, while my father and his people swim in opulence. He knows what I want to do. They all know, and they all want to get rid of me.”  
  
There was such sadness in those blue eyes, such courage and hope. Grantaire’s treacherous heart beat heavy against his chest, had him ready to swear before earth and heavens alike, his life was for Enjolras to take.  
  
His hands held Enjolras’s one, brought it up to his lips, light as a feather,  
  
“ They’ll have to kill me first”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras's like water, smoothing the sharp angles of Grantaire's shore.  
> I'm still torn about this, though.  
> I hope it was enjoyable <3


	3. 1.3

Enjolras blinked awake slowly, memories from the day swimming behind his eyes.  
  
The argument, those ferocious eyes as blue as his own, and the hatred within them. The screams, the heavy doors of the council’s chamber slamming closed behind him.  
  
It wasn’t usual for him to let his emotions run free, not when in his father’s company. Always wary of everything that might leak out and fall in those awaiting hands.  
  
He was a bit shaken still, taking deep breaths off the nocturne air as he for his eyes to get used to the darkness around.  
  
It was cold in the forest, even while in the deep of Summer; the fire Grantaire had lit up had nothing but ashes left, giving off their dying flares against the stones and the ground.  
  
Enjolras shifted inside his bedroll, so hard on the ground but warm on his skin, and turned his eyes in search.  
  
Grantaire wasn’t a heavy sleeper, and could very well look after himself, but it still sent a pang through Enjolras’s chest to find an empty bedroll with pelts thrown carelessly on the ground in lieu of those messy curls.  
  
Grantaire’s belt and sword were gone as well, but the horses were quiet and the night was silent around him, no noise coming to reveal battle.  
  
Still, it didn’t belong in Grantaire’s normal doing to leave with no notice like that. There had been voices, Enjolras knew, of bandits and wolves alike, and Enjolras hated to admit both his worry and his fear. Careful steps reached his ears and he rested his hand, slowly, around the small blade he kept hidden in his boot.  
Then, from the moving bushes, Grantaire’s figure emerged bringing relief along.  
  
As well as two armfuls of firewood, Enjolras noticed.  
  
Grantaire blinked at him, “You’re awake".  
  
“You left”.  
  
Grantaire blinked again and stepped close to what was left of their fire, kneeling to light up a new one.  
  
Enjolras watched him, sitting between his pelts, hands fiddling with the laces of his boots, “ you usually warn me, when you have to step away. Is everything alright?”  
  
Grantaire hummed, turning around once the fire came to life before him. He sat right beside Enjolras then, so close their shoulders were pressed together. “I didn’t want to wake you up. After today”, he shrugged, “I thought I’d let you sleep. Why’s that, were you worried about me?”  
  
Enjolras smiled, “Maybe”.  
  
A light breeze picked up, tumbling through the fronds, the whole forest whispering back at the gentle chant of the wind. It seeped his way on the back of Enjolras’s neck as well, making him shiver.  
  
Against Enjolras’s best wishes, Grantaire seemed to notice, draping his cloak on his shoulders as well, “Better?”  
  
More than so, “Thank you”.  
  
Grantaire was warm beside him, a solid weight keeping him up, and Enjolras found himself leaning against him;  
  
As much as he’d tried to avoid it, Grantaire had managed to warm his way into Enjolras’s heart, becoming one of the few milestones in his life. Enjolras feared what his father might do, where he to learn the depth of his affection, the thought alone enough to make him shiver again.  
  
It felt closer and closer, the day of their rise. There was a new energy, running through the meadows and the castle’s walls alike, finding its peak underneath Enjolras’s skin.  
  
It had been part of a plan, that whole day.  
  
From the argument with his father to the seemly unplanned trip away from the castle, all to steal as much money as he could, carefully hidden in his satchel.  
  
He tugged on Grantaire’s sleeve, “You know what’s going on with the southern border, right, Grantaire?”  
  
“Hm”  
  
“We’ll meet with Bahorel tomorrow”.  
  
Bahorel, who’d been sent by his father to bring order, to quiet the people in revolt. Bahorel,and his knights as well, who held his faith in Enjolras instead.  
  
Grantaire shifted beside him, green eyes shining bright in the light of the fire, as serious as Enjolras had ever seen him. “What are your plans, Enjolras?”  
  
And,  
  
Enjolras’s voice was as steady as his heart, clear and firm above the dark and the wind.  
  
“We’ll lead those people away. I won’t let them be enslaved, Grantaire. I won’t let them fall under my father.”  
  
Enjolras was set and firm within his convictions, but he flailed still when it came to Grantaire’s; He watched, unmoving and curious, while Grantaire leaned down to throw another log in the fire. “I’ve been there for a while. A few years at most, in my youth”.  
  
Enjolras regarded him, tilted his head to the side. “You speak as if you’ve become an elder since then”.  
  
Moving slowly, Grantaire rested his weight on his hand behind him to look up at the sky. The stars shined bright, silver light peeking down through the leaves above them, sharpening the roughness of his nose and the strength of his jaw.  
  
There was no place for softness among Grantaire’s features, rough lines cut with sharp gestures.  
  
Still, Enjolras found a raw gentleness to be held within them.  
  
Grantaire sighed, “that’s how it sometimes feels”, he said, “but I’m not the only one bearing a heavy past, am I?”  
  
He smiled at him, a small, distant thing, and sat up straight to look him in the eyes, stealing much necessary air away from Enjolras’s lungs, “I’m your man Enjolras, until my dying day”.  
  
Enjolras held his hands, swore it there, in the deep of the night, “You’ll see, Grantaire. We’ll walk into a brighter tomorrow”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're my guiding light, in the darkest of times.
> 
> (All criticism and advice are very welcome,if you'd like <3)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm really torn about this, but there's more.  
> i hope you liked it a little bit <3


End file.
